


Smoke and Mirrors

by Peanutbutterandjelly_101



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Alastor is in Hell for a Reason (Hazbin Hotel), Angel Dust Being Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Chicago (City), F/F, F/M, Going to Hell, M/M, Multi, Valentino & Velvet & Vox Friendship (Hazbin Hotel), We're all going to HELL
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:40:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26708386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peanutbutterandjelly_101/pseuds/Peanutbutterandjelly_101
Summary: Guns a blazin'. Brass bullets rain from the heavens as Patricia falls into the depths of Hell. Waking up in Pentagram city, the lil sinner knew she wasn't in Chicago anymore. Brought into a new and dangerous world, Patricia realizes she can do whatever the Hell she wants. With wide eyes set on the prize of making herself to be a powerful demon, she dives head first into this bloody world. Will Patricia make it to the top of the food chain? Or will her intestines be served to the known cannibalistic pinstriped demon?Follow my original character, Patricia, on her journey as she makes friends, piss off the wrong demons, and kill some unlucky souls along the way.This is my chaotic brain vomiting an original character I designed and wanting to make a thing, so here is that thing! Be wary of grammatical errors as I am editing it all on my lonesome. Please enjoy!
Relationships: Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)/Original Character(s), Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hazbin Hotel and all of their amazing characters belong to the one and only Vivziepop.](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Hazbin+Hotel+and+all+of+their+amazing+characters+belong+to+the+one+and+only+Vivziepop.).



> Please enjoy your time with Patricia and help cheer her on!  
> I will use this beginning to inform update schedules and such, or posting inspirational music for the chapter ya'll can listen to. If you want to get into the vibe.  
> Although to get into this vibe, gunshots might be the better noise to listen to!

Dying hurt. It wasn’t peaceful, wasn’t quick, but excruciating. Although maybe that had to do with the fact you deserved it. After death was the fall. It was almost like a cartoon; you saw your broken and bleeding body on the icy ground and a set of bright white staircase ascends into the cloudy skies. Walking towards them you begin sinking into the ground, each step you took another foot of your body was being pulled down. A ghastly hand hits the bottom step of the staircase before you descended into Hell.   
Watching the world pass you by, you remember your last moments. On the streets of Chicago, you waited in a 1950 Chevy Bel Air, painted black. Tapping leather white gloves against the thin steering wheel and covered in a black fox fur jacket. White snowflakes peacefully fall from the dark and cloudy night sky as you shiver from the chill seeping into your bones. Why is this taking long? This was supposed to be in and out, you thought to yourself. Growing nervous and impatient, you glance at the house across the street from you. Nothing. Nothing was happening, no yelling, no gunshots. This cause the chill in your spine to move to your stomach as a knot was formed.   
Suddenly a spotlight enveloped the dark car. Shielding your eyes from the blinding light, a loud voice over a crackly loudspeaker filled your thoughts.  
“Step out of the car with your hands up. We got you surrounded” The booming voice commands. Shit, you thought. Someone rated you out and you were fucked. Quickly glancing around to see if other cops surrounded you, attempting to call them out on their bluff but the dark night gives them the advantage as you couldn’t see anyone. Taking a deep breath, you light a cigarette and place it to your perfectly red stained lips.   
You sure as hell will not go down without a fight. That’s was for damn sure.   
Picking up your Tommy machine-gun, you load the barrel and hide the weapon in your jacket. Slowly opening the door, you heard the clicking of guns as they pull the hammers back. Throwing your hands in the air, you begin to step forward. One cop begins yelling at you to freeze and lay on the ground, smirking and taking a deep inhale of your cigarette. Slowly moving to the ground, you exhale in a cloud of smoke and quickly draw your weapon. In a flash you point the gun at the bodies you can see, and the dark night was bright from the hail of bullets firing in every direction. Shredding though your body like a hot knife in butter, each hole pierced your skin burned like acid and you collapse to the ground. A heap of destroyed fur, clothes, and skin. The only thing kept intact was your face as you bleed out on the ground. A lit cigarette still stuck to your lips. Looking up into the sky, the last thing you see is the beautiful snowflakes flutter down from the heavens.   
Now you’re like those snowflakes. Your body hurling itself from an unfamiliar red sky, body clad in tattered clothes. Hitting the pavement was the next thing that hurt almost as being turned into swish cheese. Fighting the seduction of closing your eyes again you attempt to get up, but your body gives up and you black out.  
Sounds of chewing and tearing flesh fills your ears as your eyes lazily open. Long black eyelashes slowly allow your milky white eyes peer above at the scarlet sky. Confusion fills you as you look towards the sound. Turning your head, you look to your right, a body has been impaled on a broken road sign and was being eaten by humans. Wait no, you thought, and your vision clears as you see bodies of all different shape and sizes pull the body apart with mouths and different appendages. Those are not humans, you thought. Animals, humanoids, and horned bipeds devour the unlucky soul. A shooting pain brings your attention to your legs as one of these creatures starts munching on your leg. Ripping what is left of your silk stockings to get to your delectable flesh. As you open your mouth to say something you pause as you look at your leg that looks nothing like before. Black skin from your feet fade into a blush red at your knees. The pain as the creature sinks it teeth into exposed shin shatters your confusion and you react by kicking the creature in its face. It grunts in pain and you ungracefully push yourself off the ground. Hissing and shouting from the creature draws the attention of the others as they all then turn their attention to you. Widening your eyes in shock you book it down the street.   
Your black feet don’t stop hitting the pavement until you feel like you’re about to pass out again. Heaving breaths in your exhausted lungs you take in your surroundings. Tall buildings in all styles surround you as more of those creatures scurry about minding their business. Chuckling lightly, it almost reminded you of Chicago. Bright lights help illuminate the city as the only sun in the sky was a dark pentagram. I really am in Hell, you thought. Not like you didn’t deserve to be here though. You definitely deserve to be here but the images of Catholic school flash through your brain as you thought you’d be like the poor soul, skewered and burning forever. Not a Chicago-esc type city. Continuing your travels deeper into the city, the neon lights depict the purposes of each building. A porn studio, a news station, hotels, and restaurants of the like. Eyes resting on a dinner, you pat your pockets for some type of currency and found some loose dollars still intact from your shooting and falling. Shrugging you walk into the dinner. Opening the door, you’re greeted by a woman you would presume with large curly horns and strawberry skin. Dressed in a small dress with an apron. Sitting at the counter you order a cheeseburger as your stomach rumbles in pain from the lack of food.   
“What kinda meat would you like? We have imps, hellhounds… human if you’re willing to spend a pretty penny.” The demon explains and you recoil in disgust slightly from the list of options.  
“Don’t you have like, cow or something?” You ask and she pauses at your question. Her pause shortly turns into laughter and others turn their head to the sudden outburst.  
“Cow?! You’re asking for cow?!” She mocks and laughs harder. Others join in and you sink into your seat, embarrassed from your honest question. “What are you, fresh fallen or something?” A bright pink reaches your cheeks as your body heats up.  
“I guess you could say that…” You mutter out as the waitress calms down and wipes away tears from her eyes. “I guess I’ll take the hellhound then.”   
She shakes her head and writes the order down and walks away, leaving you at your seat. The other occupants of the establishment return to their business and you take in your surroundings. Although chipper in décor the color pallet focuses on red and black. A newspaper stand catches your attention as you go over and pick up one to take a seat again. The rough paper shares the statistics of the turf wars happening all over the 9 circles of Hell. Chuckling again you read through the report as you realize, maybe this won’t be as hard as you thought. Almost just like you were in Chicago again. Suddenly a crackle of a radio breaks you from your reading as a demon you presume gets up to turn it up louder.   
“Good afternoon denizens of Hell! It is your friendly Radio Demon, Alastor broadcasting from outside the Pentagram City. Bringing you an exclusive showing of the next turf war, please enjoy!” An old timey voice projects from the radio and who you assume to be Alastor. Chuckling slightly at his voice as it reminds you of the radio hosts your grandparents loved to listen to. Glancing back to the paper you pick his name out of the leaders in turf wars and see the body count. Jesus, you thought to yourself. Swallowing the lump in your throat, he’s the top of the list with a second following by the name of Vox. As the demon places your plate of hellhound burger in front of you, screams and carnage echo from the radio in the corner. Everyone listening in and visually enjoying the show given to them. A quick shiver envelopes you before you take a tentative bite of the burger pausing you finally notice your hands. They’re the same as your legs, where your hand is black but fades to the pale red color at your elbow. Pushing past the noticed difference you continue eating. Making a mental note to not piss this guy off and to find a reflection to see what else is different about you.  
Finishing your burger, you attempt to pay with the few dollars you had, but the waitress gets angry and takes it anyways. Finishing the program, you hear the Radio Demon sign off and the radio starts playing old swing music. Getting up from your seat and taking the paper you locate the restroom to peek of yourself. Entering the women’s room, you gasp as you look in the mirror. Two small horns sit on your hairline, the first set slightly larger than the other that sit in line above your eyebrows. The second set sits slightly behind to the left and right of each their respectable horn. Drawing your eyes from your head, you realize your once shoulder length dark brown hair is pitch black and very long hangs as a mangy mess. Cringing from the dirty look your eyes catch your attention as they’re milky white. Shifting your eyes over your form, you see the light red pigment replacing your normal human color from earth and the curves given to you. On earth, you had a nice body often sought after by many women because of the hourglass effect but damn, Hell gave you extra in those departments and you weren’t that mad at it. Smiling at your body you notice the tatters covering you. This will simply not do, you thought shaking your head. You need a makeover, has your mother taught you nothing? Although you pause yourself, how can you afford anything with currency that technically isn’t from here. Time to put your charm to good use again. Leaving the dinner, you steal a steak knife walking out of the glass doors. Looking up and down the street you see demons line the street near a red light, smirking to yourself you join them. Lounging about the demons smoke cigarettes and other illicit drugs to pass the time between customers. A tall white and pink stripped demon approaches you, making you look at them.   
“Hey toots, are you a new worker for Valentino?” They ask you, following a small nod from you.  
“Yeah, do you have a smoke on you?” You ask and offer out your hand, they nod and smile handing you one. Putting it to your lips they hand you a lighter to ignite the small cancer stick. “Thanks, haven’t had one in a while.” You follow with a chuckle as they chuckle too.  
“Anytime toots. What’s your name anyways?” They ask and you hand them back their lighter.  
“My name…” You started then stopped. Should you say your normal, human name? Or should you start fresh? Maybe a scary name… You rambled in your thoughts. “It’s Patricia. And yours?”   
“You don’t know who I am?” They quip and giggle, you chuckle nervously. “Surprising since you work for Valentino, but I’m Angel Dust.” Angel smiles and puffs up his fluffy heart clad chest. You smile kindly and take a drag of your cigarette. Exhaling as a car pulls up, many demons start for it but Angel pushes you in first and give you a tap on the ass followed by a wink. Taking a second drag, you blow the smoke out of your mouth into the car, you bat your eyelashes and smile at the demon inside.  
“Looking for fun, honey?” You called and the demon gives you a nasty smile back. Grey fur covers their body with black eyes. You’ve never seen a creature like this before, but you open the car door and slip inside. Time passes as they drive off with a newscaster softly talking on the radio. Eventually stopping in a dark area where suburban homes lay, the demon turns to you and gives you that nasty grin again.   
“Are you ready to get this started?” They ask in a gruff voice and place a hand very high on your thigh. Smiling sweetly at them you nod and lean in.  
“I am, but I don’t think you are.” You whisper to them and pull out your knife out and stab the demon in the chest. They howl in pain and attempt fighting back but you twist the knife and continue to attack the body with your knife. Stopping only when they stop moving, you then move to check their car for valuables and cash. Finding a big wad in their wallet, you take any jewelry on the body. Lastly, you take your knife out of their chest wiping the blood off on their arm you get out and open the driver’s side, pulling the body out. You begin driving off in their car. Smiling to yourself in the accomplished mission of finding some money. Wondering through the rows of houses, the smells of dead and burning flesh fill your nose. Looking at the scenery around you the tire of your car squishes through a body laying in the street and causing blood to splash onto your windshield. Startled by the blood you swerve and crash into a lamp post. Cussing you get out of the car and look around. Fuck.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Get ready for the one, the only.... it's going to be a short chapter. I wanted to break it up from the first.

A warzone lay before you. Something terrible happened here and a lightbulb went off in your head. The turf war, this must be the aftermath. Its not even close to Chicago, at least a hundred bodies line the block. There could be more, but you didn’t even attempt to look for more. Walking in a direction to find a salon or dress shop, you step over bodies torn apart. Taking pause, you go to a body and rummage through their clothes to find valuables or money. Finding some, you continue going through the street pickpocketing the dead bodies. At the twentieth body you shiver as a cold wind seeps through your bones and the soft crackle of radio frequencies fill your ear. Looking up your eyes land on beautifully shined black shoes attached to a pinstriped suit of red on darker red. Continuing your gaze up to land on a face of an ashen deer-man. Red and black hair adorns his head followed by ears and small antlers. Red glowing eyes stops your movement completely.  
“That is incredibly rude missy.” The man comments on your actions and you pull your hand back from the body. Slowly standing up.  
“I’m sorry, can I help you?” You ask politely as a smile covers your face. His glowing eyes narrow in on you behind a red monocle.  
“That is incredibly rude to pickpocket a body that isn’t your kill.” He comments again, his voice as smooth as the radio host you heard in the dinner. Radio static surrounding his entire being. Eyes widen slightly as it slowly sinks in who this might be.  
“My apologizes, I didn’t realize this was a rule in Hell.” You answer truthfully and he chuckles, a wide grin eating his face.  
“That’s all well and fine dear but the next time I see you picking through my killings like a vulture, I won’t be as kind.” He simply states and nods signifying a goodbye as he walks away. The shoes leaving a soft click as he comes across a body, easily ripping the arm from the corpse and carrying it off with him. With wide eyes, you hustle out of the area.   
A few blocks down far from the war brought on by the Radio Demon, you plop yourself down in a salon chair to have your hair situation figured out. Hours pass as they cut the hair to an appropriate length hitting the middle of your back. Perming solution is set into your hair as the classic curls you’ve loved on earth return to your head. Paying the hairdresser, you locate a shop to update your clothes. Picking an off the shoulder white wiggle dress that hits your knee, black undergarments with a garter belt and thinly stripped red stockings. Black heals, red pearl necklace and bracelet, small red handbag, and white gloves matching your dress is your outfit of choice. Choosing other items of similar tastes, you pay the shopkeeper and head out on your merry way. Pausing at a glass window to take in your appearance you smile proudly. You could knock someone dead with how beautiful you looked. You pulled a few curls through the partings of your horns and look at the bottom of the dress you tear a slit on the righthand side up to the top of your hip. Grinning at your accomplishments you continue, heals clicking the pavement. Final stop is a weapons store. If you were to be stuck in this Hell, you’ll need something stronger than a dinner knife incase you cross paths with someone unsavory again. Buying a small handgun that could fit in your purse you purchase matching ammo and leave.  
Now what, you thought to yourself. What do people do in Hell? Well, you can do whatever you want and that’s exactly what you’re going to do.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This song is so fitting for Patricia. Listen in to get some hints for the future.... c;  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JRw-8tDiPQc

Weeks pass as you start making your mark in the city. Killing when you want to or when bored, you slowly began gaining popularity with the nickname of the Angel of Death. Eventually you got yourself enough money to open up a bar with a live jazz band. Tapping your foot to the hopping band, you sip on your martini. Patrons fill the small room with hazy cigarette smoke, some choosing to cut loose on the dance floor and others watch from small bistro tables. Pink and red lights point to the band that shine brightly off the brass instruments. Walls painted red, you delicately lined them with white curtains and dim lights. Beautiful black marble lay before the feet of the customers as people go about their night in fun.  
“Uhm, boss.” A voice grabs your attention as you turns to who called.  
“Yes Jeffrey.” You curtly ask. Nights you spend in the bar was your time off from business that keeps it open and you rarely like talking business when you soak in the fast-paced beats.  
“We got some bad news, ma’am.” He informs and you return a frown. Leaving the private corner of your club, you lead the way to the office behind the stage.  
“What’s going on?” You ask as you sit behind your desk, the demon nervously wrings their wrists. Jeffrey was an unlucky soul to cross your path, striking up a deal to protect his family he owed you his life in service. Many others working for you also happened to fall onto these terms and conditions as it allowed you to create a strong work force. Smirking to yourself you sip on the martini, you once held one of these deals on earth.  
“Our shipment of booze has been interfered by a small gang.” He answers slowly and you nod. Placing the glass down you chuckle.  
“Was this so serious to impede my time? You know how to handle one of these skirmishes. Show up, guns blazing, and take back the booze. Simple as that.” You shrug and eye the demon. His red hair spiked up and pale skin enunciated by the dark suits you give your staff.  
“Well, this time it won’t be so easy. Its rumors they have dealings with Vox. This could start a war we’re not ready to fight just yet.” This causes you to lift a black eyebrow. Although your club affectionately named, Heaven, was a popular spot for many denizens of Hell you went by almost unnoticed in backdoor operations. Most of the overlords overlooked you as just a club owner, nothing more. Plans of moving up the ranks in were slow motion since your staff rarely made a fuss when taking over as the main supplier for booze in at least a quarter of the stores and clubs surrounding Heaven.  
“Now that is worth my time. Take care of the gang and I’ll handle the boss if he comes a knockin’.” You order and he nods, leaving you alone in your office. Finishing your martini, you weigh your options. Even with the popularity you have, you don’t have the demon power to go head to head with an overlord like Vox. Why in the 9 circles of Hell is Vox sending out small gangs to take your booze? He dealt with electronics and technology such as that, nothing near your business. Maybe it has to do with a buddy of his? Your thoughts rambled on in your head as the band continues playing a hoppy tune.  
Over the next month, you’ve been bleeding men due to the fact gangs kept stealing your booze and as you send out demons to handle the situation, you’ve often left with a bloody scene. Although no declaration of war has been called out on you, the small amount of control in your area begins to weaken.  
Mid-day one day, you sit in the apartment above the club listening in on the radio. Simply decorated with dark grey wallpaper of skulls and flowers, white curtains hang over windows as red rugs lay on the ground. Cozy and pretty chairs fill the living room and one specifically marked in a corner with a tall red lamp for reading. A kitchen can be seen through a cut out in the wall and a simple dark wood dinning set sits another corner closest to the front door. Although you enjoy glamorous things, you often enjoy simplicity. Sipping coffee and munching on some toast, the broadcasting is another one of Radio Demon’s turf wars. Listening to the gruesome scenes depicted to you, your brain starts wishing for the power and control he holds. So many feared him and respected him, the minute he steps out hundreds lay dead before him. That’s it, you thought to yourself. Maybe you can ask for assistance, why ask for a hundred soldiers when you could have one? Chuckling to yourself and finishing your coffee you leave the small apartment.  
Jeffrey on your coat tails, you visit each of the shops and clubs under your foot. Reminding them of their loyalty. Often this meant threating or killing a staff member to put them in their place. Getting back in your white Bel Air, Jeffrey drives back to Heaven. Placing the white silk gloves over your hands again. Checking a small compact mirror, you dab a drop of blood off your face. Re-applying scarlet lipstick to your lips you give a side eye to Jeffrey.  
“That is also an example to you Jeffrey. Although I trust you dearly, if you cross me I will personally rip the intestines out of your family and give them to the band for new strings for the bass.” You sweetly threaten and he whimpers slightly, smiling deeply you watch the city pass by.  
Arriving at the club you change into a sparkly white dress that delicately hangs on your shoulders and just as deep slit on the right leg as your go to outfit. Dawning a red fur boa you arrive to the club to welcome the patrons in and to get the party started. Ordering your drink you watch as everyone settles in and the band starts. Listening to the sweet music Jeffrey runs up to your booth and shakes, sweat dripping down his face.  
“Jeffrey, what’s the matter. You look like a ghost.” You ask curiously as you have never seen him act this way before.  
“They’re here, overlords.” He whispers and your eyes widen. Getting up to go to the entrance of the club to greet them personally.  
“Good evening gentlemen. Welcome to Heaven. Can I get you a private booth?” You welcome sweetly, placing your best smile on your face. Two tall men demons you could presume stand before you. The one had a television for a head and stripped suit you also assumed was Vox. Your eyes glancing over to the other visitor, his large and fluffy coat swallows his form. A large hat with a peasant feather sits above his staring eyes, assuming him to be Valentino look you over as small grins form on their faces.  
“We actually came to talk to you. If you aren’t busy.” Vox answers kindly and you nod. Leading them to your personal booth while calling over a bartender.  
“Hopefully it is for pleasure and not business. Drinks and drugs are on the house, order what you’d like.” You offer as you sit back in your booth, they both order from the bartender as she runs off to get them their orders. Lighting a cigarette and placing it in a long black cigarette holder, you take an inhale.  
“This is both actually. We’ve been meeting to get into these pearly gates.” Val compliments as he takes his drink and sips, dragging his eyes up and down your body. Smiling at the compliment exhaling the smoke.  
“Hope you enjoy your time, but what is the business you’d like to discuss? Maybe it could wait until the morning or….” You were cut of by Vox.  
“It’s better if we talk now before things get to serious. You missy have been causing issues for us. Don’t think we haven’t been watching you grow under our noses.” He slyly comments and toys with his drink. Taking a second drag you give him a tilt of your head, attempting to swallow the fear forming in your stomach.  
“What do you mean? I’m an honest woman. Running this small club is all I do for business if that is what you are implying.” Replying back to the overlords following an exhale and a tap of the cigarette, knocking the ashes off the end onto the marbled floor.  
“Don’t bullshit us babe. You’ve been taking control of the booze and drugs in this area. We’ve allowed you to take the ground you’ve claimed but your getting dangerously close to pissing us the fuck off.” Val takes a second sip of his drink and narrows his eyes on you. A sickening smile appears on his face. “Not to mention you killed one of our best customers. Now we can handle this my way or Vox’s way. Although mine may be more, pleasurable.” He draws the last word out and you giggle.  
“I’m sorry honey, but I’m not that kind of demon and I don’t know what you’re talking about. Again, I’m an honest girl.” Finishing you sentence you take another drag of your cigarette, some of your nerves leaving your lips with the milky smoke.  
“Then your asking for war, Patricia. Be careful of you’re next actions or we’re going to hang your body off that sign of yours” Vox threatens sweetly and gets up with Val. Standing with them, Vox takes your hand and gives it a kiss on the knuckles followed by another eye drag from Val. “Until then.”  
You nod your head politely and watch them leave. As the door closes, you sit down and finish the martini before you. Allowing your body to break into shakes you look at the empty classes and the pair to your left. Definitely fucked, you thought. You’ve played every rule right and they’ve been watching you the whole time? Fuck. Hitting your head with your gloved palm. Jeffrey walks up to you cautiously and you glare at him.  
“What now boss?” He asks simply and you take the final drag of your cigarette, putting it out in the empty glass drawing your red lips thin.  
“We need to make a deal.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh.... who's she gonna call??  
> Also, thank you so much for all of the kudos! It's awesome to see people enjoy my drabble!!!

Siting in your car alone, radio tuned to the channel normally used by the Radio Demon. A knot forming in your stomach as you weigh your options. Making a deal with him could be stupid but there’s no other option for you to do. It’ll be impossible for you attempt a war on your lonesome with the demons you control. A gruesome image flashes in your mind of your dead body hanging from the club’s sign. Shivering slightly, your dark thoughts were broken from the radio static hitting your ears. Swallowing your fear, you speed off to the location of the turf war beginning.  
You arrive before the last few demons were slain. Watching the brute strength from Alastor as he easily tears through the demons failing at their attempts to take down the powerful man. Symbols dance around his form as his eyes are glowing as bright as the neon signs of the city. Pupils in the shape of dials you shiver from watching a black tendril appear from the ground to rip the demon limb from limb, flinging the body parts in different directions. Before you could get out of the car at approach him, his eyes are already trained on you. While the symbols disappearing from his aura and the dials turn back to normal pupils. Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you step out of your car and light a cigarette, taking a drag from it and you eye him up. Almost reading your sense of dread, his grin deepens.  
“Enjoy the show darling.” He calls to you and you place a smile on your lips, exhaling the smoke. “Hopefully you’re not going to pickpocket from these bodies again.”  
“I did actually.” You compliment and brighten the smile. “Although I’m here for a different reason, Alastor.” He tilts his head as his eyes narrow, his grin and stare unwavering.  
“And what would that be?” He asks as you step towards him, stepping over limbs and bodies. The clicks of your black heal are silenced by the pools of blood on the ground.  
“I’m looking for a partner in crime.” Answering honestly, stopping three feet from him to afraid to step closer. “Have you heard of Vox? He’s a very powerful overlord.” The mention of Vox causes his body to stiffen and eyes to glow brighter. “But I know an even more powerful overlord, right Radio Demon? Because if you’re not that powerful I’ll go on my merry way.” His grin becomes sick as you swallow the bile in your throat as you test the waters.  
“Be careful with your next words, dear.” Alastor threatens as you take a drag and smile bigger, giving you false confidence.  
“I need help in growing my business and having you on myside will give me an advantage.” You continue on.  
“And how will that benefit me?” He asks simply you take a second to exhale the smoke and shrug at his question, almost to make it seem obvious of your next sentence.  
“Whatever turf I take outside of my club, Heaven, is also yours. Co-ownership if you will.” You answer and his smiles turn to a more friendlier expression but his eyes stay glowing and narrowed at your smaller form.  
“Is that a deal then?” He extends his hand as green smoke willows from his gloved palm, you giggle and put the cigarette out on his expecting hand. Causing him to growl slightly as you grin sweetly.  
“Not yet honey. Stop by the club if you want, we have a live band I’d think you’d enjoy.” You wave was you saunter back to your car. Getting in it and driving off, once out of sight of the Radio Demon you sigh a breath of relief as you shake slightly, getting your nerves out and forcing the feeling of throwing up aside. Well, no turning back now.  
Months pass and nothing happens. The two visitors that threaten you didn’t show and neither did the Radio Demon. Although not seeing them would normally be a good thing, at this moment their choice to not see you causes more fear. With the absence of your demon encounters, so were the attacks of your booze shipments even with the doubling of guards. No one is seeming to cross you. One night as you sit in your booth sick from the fear and anxiousness of dealings with the three powerful demons a somewhat familiar face walks into you club. Their form takes one of a weasel with dark brown fur and a white belly. A stylish fedora and matching suit clad their thin form, their recognizable facial features draws your eyes out from the private booth. Standing you call out to the demon.  
“Jimmy?”  
The weasel turns around nervously searching for your call, their eyes eventually landing on you. “Patricia?” A warm smile releases from your face and you run up to embrace them.  
“Jimmy! I haven’t seen you since that night…” You ramble and the weasel you called Jimmy hugs you back kindly.  
“I know. The funeral was bad. We could only show your face.” He comments and breaks the hug.  
“How did Ma hold up?” Wincing slightly at your voice crack.  
“She didn’t show. She only came to your funeral to see you put to rest. I’m sorry Patricia.” Jimmy apologizes kindly and you sigh sadly. Although your mother and you had an interesting relationship, you would hope she wasn’t affected by your death. The only remorse you held against doing everything you did.  
“Well. Those are our old lives, right?” You break the awkward silence that settled between you both. “Welcome to Heaven! Let me get you a drink and let’s catch up.” Smiling wide you lead him to your booth.  
The night passes by fast as you both became very drunk. Empty booze bottles litter the table and ground around you both as chatter fills the booth. Asking about Jimmy’s death, you learn how the scarlet fever took him down. Since he fell to Hell for similar reasons to you, he fills you in on how he’s been working for a few people with simple work. Mugging those who had debts to be paid and delivering news to others although you never got what bosses those would be. Towards the end of the night, you both break onto the dancefloor like the old days and dance until you drop.  
Jeffrey drove your friend home as one of the bartenders helped you into your apartment as you rest easy from the wonderful night with your friend.  
Weeks pass as no word is heard from the overlords and the Extermination Day climbs close. Not being your first rodeo although you barely got out alive from the first Extermination Day, you created a safe room in your apartment to wait it out.  
The following day, you join Jeffrey to check in with your employees. Some were killed the night before, but others were left open to taking due to the untimely death of their bosses. Leaving for Heaven, you smile to yourself as you have double the number of clubs, bars, and stores working for you now. That night you cut the booze price in half and the night starts out loud with the big band playing the Charleston. Tapping your foot to the beat, you sip your drink and bathe in your strength. Maybe you could handle Vox and Valentino by yourself. Nearly choking on your drink a radio crackle breaks your happiness.  
“Hello darling.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is going to get, interesting. Totally wasn't inspired by Lone Digger by Caravan Palace. 
> 
> Also, I wrote most of these chapters before. This chapter is the last completed one so upload times might be farther between because of school and nonsense.

Attempting to intake air as your lungs reject the foreign substance, your eyes are pulled to the red demon standing next to you with his wide grin bearing down on you.  
“Alastor, what a surprise.” You cough out and stand, taking control of your body. “Although not unpleasant. I thought you wanted to disregard our last meeting.”  
“On the contrary. I am very interested in helping you although I will claim at least 90% of your territory.” He chimes in and narrows his eyes. Motioning him to sit down you sit with him, staring at him from across the booth. A small laugh escapes your lips at his offer.  
“90%? I’m sorry, but it will have to be 30% if you’re willing to steep that low.” Lighting a cigarette, you lean back in your seat, his eyes narrowing.  
“30%? Do you take me for a fool? I will require at least 80.” Alastor answers back while crossing his legs, you exhale and throw him a smile.  
“I take you to be smart and deceiving, 65% take it or leave it.” His grin deepens at your boldness and you hold your stare although you feel a knot tying tight in your stomach.  
“Fine, a fair deal. Let’s shake on it.” He offers his hand again and you giggle at his movement causing him to grow darker in his corner.  
“Like I said, no deals yet. Let’s at least take this partnership for a ride before I sign anything, Alastor.” You comment and his demeanor softens slightly although still holding it’s terrifying form. “Anyways, let’s start this friendship with a toast. What would you like?” Asking politely, you take a drag from your cigarette.  
“Do you have bourbon by chance?” Alastor asks and you nod, calling over a waiter. As he walks towards your booth his body begins shaking from the other member sitting next to you. Waiving off his fear, you order two classes of the Radio Demon’s preferred drink. Watching the waiter walk away, you turn back to the smiling demon in front of you.  
“Tell me honey, what gave you this power?” You ask as you lean forward to the table, he chuckles at your inquiry and leans back. Crossing his pinstripe arms over his chest.  
“Are you already planning on backstabbing me this early?” The Radio Demon’s eyes soften but still bore into you. A black eyebrow raises as the drinks are placed carefully before you.  
“Backstabbing? No, I am simply curious because I understand that you are also a sinner. They have to work hard to gain the power you hold.” You continue on and slide his drink to him.  
“I’ll explain to you as I see fit dear. But enough business, let’s drink to our partnership as you claim it to be.” He chuckles and raises his glass, picking up yours and clinking glasses with his you both take sips.  
The night ends quicker for you as Alastor only stayed for the one drink and a complete set of the band. Although sitting next to you, neither of you talked as you enjoyed the beautiful music dancing through the air. On his exit, he wishes you goodbye as he walks out of your club. Again, as the door closes you let out a shaky breath and heavily smoke your pack of cigarettes. Jeffrey eventually joining you in your booth when you’ve finally turn green from the nicotine.  
“Did you make a deal?” Was all he said as he looks at your nervous form. Shaking your head as he sighs in relief. “Good. He’s bad news boss. You are messing with some dangerous people.” Jeffrey warns as you throw him a glare.  
“And you aren’t? Don’t forget who you’re dealing with. Take tomorrow off, let someone else do the run and enjoy the day with your family.” You command and he nods, thanking you as he leaves you in the booth. Fuck, you really have no other choice now. You are not literally, dealing with the devil.  
Perfectly polished oxford heels click on the gory pavement, demons turn to look towards the mysterious person walking. Faces at first looking amused turn sour as they grimace, preparing for suffering. The mysterious figure chuckles as they lean towards one demon who looks even more afraid.  
“Smile my dear! You are never fully dressed without one!” His voice carries through the air in cheery tone but the expression on this mysterious demon flashed a crazed grin. The demon cowering below whimpers and runs away. “Nice talking to you!”  
Alastor fixes his hair and continues walking down the street, humming a jazzy tune as radio static lightly surrounds his aura. Humming his song, his mind continues to wonder. What an interesting demon belle, he thought. It wasn’t the first time he’s helped a demon by allowing them to partner with him, although the deal always turned for his favor with the demon turned into his mother’s famous jambalaya. Chuckling at the thought of your head in his fridge, his stomach growls. Conquering Hell was easy for him to do but to continue to defend his territory is another battle. Maybe having help from this demon belle would give him an advantage and some entertainment for the time being. His thoughts float through his head like music as he steps over various body parts in different stages of decomposition. Reflecting on the few times both of you have chatted, he could see through your façade of confidence. Often using those cursed sticks of tobacco to control your shaky breath. The intensity of your eyes staring into his are not challenging like you’d hope them to be but showing the fear you hold as if you were to blink, he’d rip you in half. Chuckling again as his stomach rumbles and he deeply inhales, still smelling your cinnamon and coffee scent linger in his nostrils. You are interesting and entertaining, although your mannerisms seem to be inappropriate for such a young lady. Making a mental check for himself to talk to you about the correct womanly mannerisms you needed to correct. Although you’d be fun for now when he’s bored enough, he’ll turn you into his next decoration.  
Later that week, you prepare for a meeting with another bar across the Pentagram to have them purchase your booze and drugs. Giggling to the name of the club, Back Alley Cat, as the club owner is a black cat who you’ve become acquainted with through Jimmy. He did warn you of his stubborn dealings but to grow your territory and power, his club needs to be under your control. Frowning slightly as you fix your hair into wavy vintage Hollywood curls another warning flashed through your head. That club is one of the clubs under control of Val with his workers often working in the back rooms. You are deliberatively stepping not on his toes but his foot with this action. Regardless of the cat’s answer, it means war for you. Sighing nervously, you drape your shoulders with the blood red fox fur and check for wrinkles on your white sparkly dress. The iconic slit you wear on you right leg shows blood red stockings and garter below the dress. Puffing your chest out on confidence, you slide black pumps onto your feet and head for the door. No turning back now you whisper to yourself.  
Leaving the building for your car, you mentally curse yourself as Jeffrey helps you into the passenger’s side. Maybe you should’ve contacted Alastor but in all reality you have no way of reaching out to him. He never gave you a number or address to reference to, that pinstriped man just walked out of your bar. Nervously lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag you stare out the window as Jeffrey starts the car. Maybe you didn’t gain him as an ally but an enemy and now you’re triple fucked. Shivering as a vivid scene begins playing through your head. All three of them show up one night at your club and drag you into the street. Each taking a bite, stab, gunshot, whatever they wanted to do you. Your blood staining the sidewalk as they tear you apart. Vox staring into your nearly lifeless eyes as he pulls out your small intestine and starts tying it into a noose. Valentino slips it around your neck and pulls it tight, stopping any remaining air you can pull through your deflated lungs. Choking on the lack of oxygen, Alastor takes the end of your intestine and throws it over the H in your glamorous sign and starts pulling. Unable to scream from the pain anymore, your body is strung up as the overlords watch and laugh as your body swings aimlessly from your sign.  
Clutching your stomach from the phantom pain of your impending doom you nearly gag as you exhale the smoke in your lungs. Jeffrey glances over to you and raises an eyebrow.  
“You okay boss?” He gently asks and you nod slightly, keeping a tight lip as you calm down your beating heart.  
“Let’s not fuck this up, yeah?” You calmly say after a few moments pass and you take a second drag. Jeffrey bobs his head and leaves the conversation at that. Listening to the light jazz on the radio, you sink into you chair slightly and close your eyes. Time slips past you as a gentle nudge wakes you from your nap, sitting up slowly and blinking rapidly to wake up your eyes Jeffrey opens the car door and helps you out.  
“We’re here boss, would you like me to come in with you?” Glancing at him, you take out your spent cigarette and light a second one on the end of your cigarette stick. Nodding slightly, you adjust your fur and check your appearance. Happy with the alluring beauty you bring in your aurora you look back to Jeffrey, dressed in his best white dinner suit with a red rose. Adjusting his bowtie, you motion towards the club door.  
“Looking sharp, I’m glad you wore the dinner suit.” You compliment, smiling at him slightly. A light confusion flushes over his face before a small smile graces Jeffrey’s lips as he chuckles slightly.  
“Thank you, boss.” Walking towards the door, Jeffrey hands off the keys to the valet demon waiting by the line of demons hoping to get into the club. Leading you around the line towards the door, a large alligator demon in a tight black tee shirt stops you both.  
“The line is around the corner.” He grunts through horrid teeth, both of you nearly gag from the smell of his breath.  
“I actually have a meeting with the owner, Mr. Noir.” You respond as you blow smoke into his face, causing a lowly growl to emanate from his chest. “Please let him know the Angel of Death would be annoyed to be waiting in line like any normal sinner.” Letting a tone slip into your words as you narrow your eyes at the gator. He glances at you both and grumbled something under his breath. Tapping on the door, someone from inside opens it allowing you inside. Jeffrey leads the way as you walk in after him. Crossing his arms in front of his chest as he scans the room before him, crossing over the threshold the door closes behind you while a larger humanoid demon glare down at you. Taking an inhale of your cigarette, you take in the room around you. A large bar stands in front of you as you catch your image in the mirrors that line the walls. Milky eyes glance and your eyes fall onto the red room lined with velvet black walls. Red lights create an eerie glow as it lightly reflects off the ground. Demons of all kinds dance to the large band playing on the stage in front of red curtains, a handsome young cat sings behind the microphone. Walking up to the bar you order a martini and Jeffrey sits down, keeping his head up for trouble. The jiving music slowly dies down as the singer takes a break from the band. A bartender walks up to him handing him a drink and whispers in his ear. Your eyes gloss over the room looking for Mr. Noir, sipping your drink slowly. The black cat cuts through the crowd as they recover from the energized dancing. Jeffrey’s head picks up to the quick movement of the singer as he moves through the crowd. Tapping his hand on the counter you glance at him and follow his eyes towards the cat making his way to you.  
“Ms., I’m sorry to hear of the trouble getting into my club. I am glad to know you’ve stayed to chat with me.” He apologizes, you eye him up. A black velvet suit clads his body, shiny black fur peeks out from under the suit as his green eyes pierce into your own. Behind his body a narrow tail swishes back and forth in anticipation. Offering his hand like paw up, you place your white gloved hand into his as he kisses the back of your hand. “If you please, we can chat in my private booth.” Getting up from the bar, he gently leads you to a private booth closest to the big band. Gesturing for you to sit down first, you slide in as black curtains hanging from the ceiling cast shadows into the small booth. Sliding in across from you he sips on a dark liquid and smiles kindly at you.  
“You have a lovely voice, Mr. Noir. Don’t be mistaken, I am glad to be having this meeting with you.” You compliment as you take a drag of your cigarette and release it quickly. Smiling sweetly at him as you bat your eyelashes.  
“Thank you, Ms. Patricia. But I will be ending this meeting soon with you. Although I would love to work with someone as lovely as you, I would be stupid to go against Valentino.” Chuckling as he finishes his statement causing a small giggle to escape your lips and eyes to narrow slightly. Crossing your right leg over your left, causing your whole leg to be exposed causes his body to stiffen slightly and his eyes to strain as their focus seems to be pulled elsewhere.  
“I understand your predicament. It is a nasty one and you wouldn’t want to be caught in a turf war where someone could easily take your club once your corpse is being chewed on by the lowest of demon on the street.” Threating sweetly, you lean forwards squeezing your chest with your biceps. Taking a long drag and exhaling slowly, his eyes glance between your chest and eyes a few times before he breaks eye contact and looks towards the band. His slim tail swishing even more behind him, almost touching your legs. Taking a swig of his drink he then clears his throat and looks back to you.  
“Look, I’m not going to give you another chance. Leave now and things won’t get nasty.” His eyes nearly glow bright green and you harden your jaw, a smug grin spreads your bright red lips.  
“I never back down from a fight Mr. Noir. In fact, I like a good challenge.” You sigh sadly as you finish your drink and lean into the back of the bench. “Please prepare for a fight with no survivors.” As his eyes glow green, the dark shadow casts over your body as white milky eyes glow from the darkness in a dangerous aurora. A growl rises to his throat as he gets up, throwing you a glare and cracks his fingers.  
“If you wish.” With a snap of his fingers the band stops playing as they reach for weapons hidden on the stage. Eyes of the club goers grow wide in a mixture of fear, anger, and excitement as other members grab their weapons. Realization hits you as you jump up, flipping the table over to gain some cover as the band starts firing into the booth. Pressing your body to the table bullets splinter through the wooden table, a couple piercing your body in various places. Growling in pain, you grab your gun and wait for the bullets to stop. As the empty clicking of the guns echo through the silent club you pop up and fire back at the band. Hitting the trumpet player between the eyes. They scramble to find cover as chaos rips through the club. Customers and workers begin a war inside the confined club. Dropping back behind the table you hold a particularly nasty wound on your lower rib, blood starts staining your beautiful dress causing you to hiss in annoyance. A strangled scream tears through the gunfire as you peak around the table to see Jeffrey fighting off the large gator. Watching them fight you can assume it will not end well for Jeffrey as the gator is physically overpowering your right-hand man. Quickly moving from your hiding spot, you go to help your red friend as someone grabs you by your hair and yanking you back. Claws breaks your blushed skin as you scream in pain, whipping around to attack the one who grabbed you. Black velvet catches your eye as he slams your head into the countertop of the bar. A sickening snap is heard as your nose cracks under the pressure of the attack. Screaming again you writhe under his grip to be released only for another sharp yank to your hair with a cold metallic blade pressed to your neck ceases your movements.  
“I’d stop fighting if I were you unless you’d like to die slow and painfully.” Mr. Noir growls into your ear as he presses you against his chest, a knife to your throat and a handful of your curled black hair in his paw. “I’d like to at least leave a pretty face for Valentino.”  
“Go fuck yourself.” You spit as you attempt to slam your head into his, causing him to apply more pressure to the knife as blood begins rolling down your chest into your cleavage. Growling in pain, another strangled scream is heard from Jeffrey as the gator claws your worker’s chest open. Black blood is swished everywhere as his once nice suit is in tatters and his chest now concaved as the gator’s claws rip into flesh and organs. Sickening snaps and squelches fill the silent club as the chaos dies down. More than half of the patrons lay dead or dying on the ground. Mr. Noir laughs darkly as he hums a slow tune into your ear. Closing your eyes, you await the forever nothingness as you would be truly, dead dead. A sharp radio static fills breaks the disgusting sounds of your friend’s body being ripped apart. Slowly opening your eyes, a red demon man steps into the destroyed club smiling happily at the scene laying before him.  
“Well! Looks like I missed all the fun, I do feel left out.” Alastor chuckles and eventually his red eyes land on your form. Mr. Noir loosens his grip on you slightly only for him to tighten it again and press the knife into your neck more. Growling more in pain, you attempt to wiggle free again as he snaps your head back with his fist full of your hair.  
“Radio Demon. Glad to make you acquaintance finally although we are in the middle of a little turf dispute. I would love to chat with you after I dispose of this trash.” He chuckles nervously as you snarl at his comment. Alastos’s eyes narrow on Mr. Noir as he chuckles deeply, his grin deepening on his pale face.  
“Actually Mr. Noir, that trash is my partner. Any turf dispute with her, will also be with me. So, if you would please unhand my gal I would leave you with at least two limbs of my choice.” The demon deer threatens cheerfully as his face turns sinister. Letting out a huff and a choked-out giggle, Mr. Noir looks to you slightly and frowns. Slowly letting go of you and stepping back slightly, you stumble slightly from the lack of support as you attempt to walk over to Alastor. Seeing the sight of you struggle to walk causes him to smile more as he soaks in your pain and offer a hand for your assistance. Reaching out for it, Mr. Noir throws the knife and it sinks into the center of your back. Causing you to scream and crash into Alastor, gripping onto his arms for support. He stiffens as he growls from the unwelcomed touch, eyes bare into Mr. Noir as he runs for the back door. With a snap of the Radio Demon’s gloved fingers, Mr. Noir’s limps are ripped from his body with tentacles coming up from the ground. Laughing happily from the gore he turns his attention back to you as your vision fades quickly. The red of the club quickly becoming dark splotches as you pass out in his arms. Growling slightly from you passing out on him, he swiftly picks you up and nodding to the remaining club goers he carries you out of the club. Spotting your white car parked in the lot for the club, he lays you in the passenger’s seat as he takes the driver. Starting the car, he begins driving you towards his small home.  
Driving through the night of Pentagram city, lights softly illuminate the car briefly every few seconds as the car passes under lampposts. The smell of your blood fills the cabin as Alastor shifts uncomfortably in his seat. His eyes glancing at your limp body slowly paling out from the blood loss causes his insides to stir. Your smell of cinnamon, coffee, and now your blood is pushing him to pull over and rip into your flesh like the cannibal he is. Although he would prefer you to be awake for it, he would settle for you passed out as well. Licking his lips slightly, he takes a finger and digs it into the bullet hole on your lower ribcage. Almost touching bone, he shivers from excitement as your eyelids flutter slightly and a weak groan passes your lips. Taking his finger out of your wound and into his mouth, he licks the blood off of his finger happily. A deep shudder hits his spine as the taste hits his taste buds. Savoring the flavor, he puts his hand back to the wheel and growls in pleasure. One of the best tasting demons he has ever tasted, possibly one of the most delicious things he has ever tasted. Chuckling darkly, his half-lidded eyes glance back at you again, as his thoughts ran rampant of all the beautiful recipes your body could be made into.


End file.
